Letting me go
by queencrestah
Summary: Maybe there is more to Seneca Crane than we think. (Oneshot. Seneca as the good guy, basically.)


Letting me go.

Katniss Everdeen. It's a promising name, I should say. Her defiant eyes made me uneasy unlike the adorable and handsome Peeta Mellark. This girl has something of a hidden heat in her that would flare up any time now, entirely embodying her girl-on-fire image. Funny to think is, Peeta Mellark was on fire too. Nobody called him boy-on-fire, though.

Year after year, I watch these wretched Games leave on tribute alive and be crowned victor. Sometimes I envy the workers in those twelve districts. There was the easiness of escape, of reprieve from these slaughters even for just the shortest of time. Run away from the screens to their jobs, for example. But how do you expect me, a Capitol citizen to run away? Practically everyone would be too happy to trade places with me. What do I run away from? Where do I go? And why would I go when my life is perfect and safe and comfortable here?

People despise us, I know. I don't blame them, though. As a matter of fact, I kind of hate myself too. For being quiet and consenting while children get slaughtered for entertainment, while people die because of hunger, and while parents suffer working long hours on factories and mines. We take every single thing for granted, on the other hand.

As I watched her decorate Rue's deathbed, a tear escapes. This is not fair. It never will be. Then the commercials cut the telecast. That's when I saw Claudius, a good friend of mine, interview him, Seneca Crane.

A hand finds end weaves its way to mine.

"I think I look surprisingly charming in that interview. What do you think, Camella?" a voice asks. I sighed.

"Are you not supposed to be in the Control Room, Seneca?" I answered, looking into his blue eyes, remembering how I drowned in them the first time we met. He pulled me close, his arm wrapped around my small frame while my head rested on his chest. I listened to the steady beat of his heart.

"I missed you. I can't seem to find enough time to be with you." He whispered, his words singing melodies in my ear.

I didn't answer, full of loathing with myself and something else that I couldn't quite put a finger to. I was in love with the person controlling the very thing I am disgusted with.

Oh, the ironies of life.

After a long silence, he spoke up.

"I know what runs in your head, Camella. And I don't need to hear it." He whispered, resigned. I think I heard fatigue in his voice.

"I don't blame you, Seneca. I… I can't seem to blame anyone, though. But this Games is pathetic and ridiculous. Tell me, have you justified yet where the humanity is in this whole thing? There is nothing but true despair! And we, who are delighted that children are shedding blood for us, should not be called humans. It's a term we grew unworthy of." I said, my voice rising.

We still held each other in a close embrace, surprisingly. He sighed. I can feel his lips touch my hair.

"Camella, if I saw an opportunity to defy the Capitol and live, I would destroy the Games even if I had to do it alone. But they will kill me or worse, you. And that is something I'm not allowing to happen." He said, his voice ringing with truth.

"We're not that different from the tributes, really. We fight to live. And like them, Camella, I have loved ones to protect. I'm not letting them take you away from me." He kept talking, his voice filling with more and more resolve.

"I love you. A monster like me unbelievably fell in love with you. And you seem to love me, too. For some unknown reason. That is the only beauty I see out of my life. I won't let you go. Not ever. Even if it means playing as a Gamemaker for the President's sake. Believe me, I loathe myself for being this selfish but what can I do? I won't walk away from this love that we have." His words struck home in a sweet but painful blow. I'm speechless.

I held onto him tightly, knowing that he'll have to go back to that wretched Control Room again. Even the Games can take him away from me. I thought it was just supposed to teach the districts a lesson.

"Well, if you're selfish, then that makes the two of us. Because right now, Seneca, I don't want to you to go and leave me here." I said, my voice shaking.

"Hey. I'm here. I'm not going to let you go." He said, tilting my face up so that I could look at his face. I'm drowning in his blue eyes again.

He bent down and kissed me. Suddenly nothing matters anymore. He was here. We deepen our kiss until we have to break away to catch our breaths.

I replayed that perfect night again and again in my head.

The tears fall, painful and unstoppable.

"I thought you said you won't let me go." I whispered, not trusting to really speak at all because I can't find my voice. The crushing pain, that's all I am right now. As minutes turn to hours, my tears still kept falling, damping the ground and the marble stone where his name was engraved.

Because right now, crying is all I am when the person I cared the most is now dead, now gone. Because right now, I felt defeated and weak, unable to accept the fact that a couple of berries took my Seneca away.


End file.
